Existentialist cries for help have never sounded as good as they do on this release from a band that is now at their prime. Cursive continues the distinctive, D.C.-flavored rock they've explored these past few years, tacking on a poppier sensibility hinted at by Domestica, their previous full-length. Burst and Bloom is a nearly perfect EP that finds the band toying increasingly with varied rhythms, instrumental and vocal dynamics, and the time-honored lyrical tropes of love, loss, and the search for meaning. Recently recruited cellist Greta Cohn adds subtle undertones, making Cursive one of the rare bands that have added strings late in their career with genuinely positive results. Like their sonic peers Fugazi, Cursive's brilliance lies in their organic quality, with each musician adding an indispensable flavor to the mix. The rhythms are superb, alternating from staccato marching beats to eccentric danceable grooves, often within the same track. The guitars remain as full as usual, accenting the low end and bolstered by the strength of Cohn's drawn-out cello. All of this provides a moving backdrop for Tim Kashir's voice, which alternates adeptly from agonized howling to Deftones-influenced whispering (and everything in between). His phrasing weaves heartbroken lines intricately around choppy guitar riffs and stop-start bass tempos. Cursive is more dynamic than ever, experimenting with rapid mood and time signature changes without ever venturing near overwrought prog-rock territory. While they borrow liberally from bands such as Archers of Loaf and the aforementioned Fugazi, Cursive has the tongue-in-cheek honesty to wear their influences proudly. The lyrics to the first track sound like a hokey press release for the band itself, detailing their links to the "DC sound" as well as trumpeting their upcoming full-length on "Saddle Creek," all while rocking your stereo speakers to the breaking point. The only slight downer on Burst and Bloom is the final track, where Cursive's "epic" qualities occasionally flirt too closely with the dark side of that adjective: melodramatic and overly serious. Yet even this song saves itself with a rousing outro that repairs the damage done in the preceding three minutes. We can even excuse Tim Kashir's occasionally over-the-top lyrical tropes, which occasionally involve phrases such as "pony circus dreams" and oblique references to being raped by the moon. As the story goes, the poor guy went through a divorce that formed the catalyst for Cursive's last full-length, and he's evidently still nursing the shards of his broken heart on this one, so give him a break. Ultimately the Burst and Bloom EP is an exciting hint at the direction Cursive might take on their upcoming full-length (though there's no need to wait for that release: This 5 song collection of emo-tinted fight songs is worth buying for its own sake). "Some melodies are like disease… they will infect your memory," Kashir sings, and at least this particular music critic can happily agree. —Scott Indrisek
Did they make you wear a dress?/Did they?" Mike Patton, you sexy bastard. A conversation with a friend regarding Patton's stage presence at a recent show with his Lovage project yielded the conclusion that the singer is of the "women want him, men want to be him" archetype. Though Lovage's (slightly higher profile) Music To Make Love To Your Old Lady By paints the band as musical Spanish Fly, the thirteen tracks on Tomahawk are no less certifiable songs about fucking. As long as the sex takes place in a back alley with a French prostitute and a one handed sailor. "The cat's in the bag/And the bag's in the river." In that same alley, passed out next to (probably in) the dumpster, is David Yow. I tried to avoid the seemingly inevitable Tomahawk/Jesus Lizard comparison, but the stench of the latter band's frontman apparently dripped off guitarist Duane Denison's brow and crept up Patton's leg. Denison's playing is too distinctive to hide within the guise of any one band and the hive of voices in Patton's throat more than occasionally emits one with Yow's patented sting. "This beat could win me a Grammy." Even Patton's dead on Yowisms have too much vocal power to tag as imitation, and Denison's musical direction on the album is bolder than the singular niche the Lizard carved. When he veers too close to older riffs, like the guitar on "Sweet Smell of Success", reminiscent of Lizard songs like "Pastoral" and "Elegy", the band still salvages a distinction of their own. Patton is a vocalist who approaches different styles to always keep himself interested in his own talent, while Yow is a performer who warbles his way into a style and embraces it to keep himself sane. The difference marks each of the two bands and widens the gap between Tomahawk and the Jesus Lizard's respective style. It could be that Patton's full platter complements Denison's own recent undertakings better than Yow's empty thirty pack. Denison's touring stint with Hank Williams III seems to have spawned "Cul de Sac", a backroad ditty probably found in the bathroom of an abandoned tavern. "Hitch a ride." My own touring stint to the liquor store brought me across the path of a gentleman inquiring from his car if I too bowed at the altar of Mike Patton. A transcription of this exchange follows: "Dude, Mr. Bungle?" "Fuckin' Tomahawk, man!" Strangers brought together over a mutual love of incest rock. It's beautiful, folks. "Sir!/Yes sir!" Incest rock? Music to hang gym teachers from the rafters by and paddle frat boys to death to. The kind of eclectic noise that your parents insist begs the question, "Are they still warming up?" Warming up to rock your ass.
— Scott Homiak
Don't mistake the whistling of your dying breath for some sort of post-mortem anthem," taunts Jason Farrell and company on Bluetip's latest Dischord release. Clever in both design and execution, Bluetip are the new standard for rock, and show no signs of relenting, proving the band to be far beyond the "dying breaths" of their peers. Post Mortem Anthem is a culmination of the entire Bluetip sound thus far. Five unreleased tracks and five previously released tracks plow through drums and guitars in a mad fury, preventing nothing in the way of audio progress. Strengthening and refining their sound into a taut delivery, Bluetip have become a unique institution: a rock band that manages to sound fresh and engaging. Formed in 1995, Bluetip have built a sound reminiscent to the best elements D.C. bands have to offer: always urgent, often unpredictable and never forgettable. Farrell's self-depreciating lyrics attack like daggers that find their mark with precision and purpose. He's right on the mark whether it's political ("American citizens revel in indifference to the world that surrounds them") or personal ("Life long faith pawned off at some soul yard sale exchanged for mere routine").His voice is rewarding in its ability to sing, scream, yell, or talk its way in and out of every song at any moment. Jason and co-guitarist Dave Stern weave melody and harmony around tight distorted phrases with an accuracy and sonic brilliance unlike any other, while drummer Dave Bryson and bassist Jake Kump ensures that Bluetip don't overstay their welcome in any one musical terrain. Together, Bluetip assaults one's senses constantly, belligerently and beautifully within the framework of approximately three and a half minutes a song. So what do they sound like? They sound like Jawbox if Jason Farrell was their front man. They sound like Fugazi, with the brilliances that connotes. They sound like At the Drive-in because ATDI were a tight band. I'll lie and say they sound like Mozart, because some of you out there don't believe in volume, distortion, or rock. The best part is that they sound nothing like Creed. The truth is that Bluetip sound like Bluetip, unique and well worth your time. "I think there might be only fifty people in the world that get repeated," Jason Farrell sings, and if those fifty people simply bought this record, we'd all be in better shape. get this album. It's the best Valentine's Day present I can offer you as a stranger. The band, the music, the lyrics, the concepts, and the layout are all phenomenal. Bluetip aren't another cookie cut from the same tired mold. The band reminds us that this is only the beginning: "Don't get too comfy, this is already history." Post Mortem Anthem isn't a lament for a death, it's a scream for a resurgence in rock.
—David Berkovits
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